These Are The Nights My Pulse Did Not Win
by Kathey27
Summary: Stiles is no one's heroine. / Or, She traces the bruises along her rib cage, skims the redness of her cheeks and doesn't look down at her pants. When she can no longer bare to look at herself, she turns off the lights. Genderbend. Late birthday present to The-Girl-Who-Waited42.


**A/N: You can blame this all on Sarah Kay because she is a goddess of epic proportions and her poems are the words of paradise. Seriously. This is all her fault.**

**Very much with the non-linear.**

**Disclaimer: If I owned anything, Erica and Boyd and Jackson would be around, Isaac would be happy, Derek would smile, Peter would stop being a creep and Gerard would die an awful death because bite me Jeff, it _always_ hurts.**

**xxxxxx**

_"baby,"_ i'll tell her _"remember your mama is a worrier_

_and your papa is a warrior and you are the girl with small hands_

_and big eyes who never stops asking for more."_

-Sarah Kay, _B_

**xxxxxx**

**these are the nights my pulse did not win:**

Zoë Stilinski was a fierce warrior woman who never took anyone's shit. A beautiful woman filled with strength and power and even as the depression continued to take and take from her, she never once let it show.

There are still nights, in front of a cracked mirror, that will have Stiles staring at herself, desperate to find even a sliver of that remembered strength.

There is none.

xxxxxx

Boyd hands her bandages, helps her wrap up her ribs and apply the burn cream and his eyes bore holes into her skin.

She smiles, with blood still on her teeth and lets him know: "I'm fine, really."

Still, it's her hands, not his, that shake when it's time for her to try and stand.

xxxxxx

Derek slams her into her bedroom door and his scent is overpowering and his eyes are harsh and angry and still, his fists in her sweater are the softest things she's ever felt.

He opens his mouth, probably to throw around some more threats and insults but before he can even think to do it, she's leaning forward and pressing her lips to his.

It's quick, nothing more than a peck but it's enough to rattle him into letting her go, into moving away.

She touches her barely touched lips and, "my house, my rules; don't be getting any ideas buddy."

xxxxxx

Stiles is pretty sure she's been in love with Jackson for a good third of her life. Has wanted from afar and has thirsted, hungered for him as Lydia Martin wrapped herself around him and smiled a bloody smile.

She loves him so much sometimes it's hard for her to concentrate, even with the pills, on anything else.

This is why she does what she needs to; why she drives her precious jeep into a warehouse and stands back, yet again, as Lydia Martin wraps herself around him.

xxxxxx

She stays up all night, researching, trying to find some explanation. Because as much as she loves Scott, and as much faith as she has in the boy, she also knows what he's capable of.

Spends hours going over the lore and the symptoms and by daybreak she knows.

xxxxxx

Peter Hale wraps his fingers around her wrists slowly, sniffs the skin there and _my my, what big teeth those are._

He leans close, twirls a lock of her hair around and whispers, "You would make an excellent wolf. Strong and fierce. You'd be magnificent."

She thinks about it for a second, a split second, and that's all it takes for his ears to detect the lie.

She pulls away and says no.

xxxxxx

Her dad gazes at her sadly and nods along with her lie.

"So of course, you were here to help Scott get over Allison…at a gay club."

She tightens her fingers into her hoodie and smiles, desperate to come off genuine. "Yeah dad, you know how it is, gotta watch his back."

There is sadness and disappointment in his eyes as he tells her to get into the police car.

xxxxxx

Three weeks after Boyd's death Derek returns to them.

Walks into the loft with heavy footsteps and a tired expression and her hands wring together, itching to reach out and tell him_ i understand _and_ i killed someone too once _and _i've missed you._

Her and the other two Hales watch as he climbs the spiral staircase and listen as his bedroom door closes softly.

xxxxxx

Stiles has no idea what she's doing at this stupid party.

She's dressed in the only pair of jeans that actually fit her, wearing a shirt that used to belong to her mom – her dad had legitimate tears in his eyes when he'd seen her – and she isn't nearly drunk enough to be dealing with all of these douchebags in one place.

Oh and Scott had disappeared, that's important too, she guesses.

She's on her way to the kitchen because booze equals happiness when she catches sight of a faintly familiar leather jacket and a head of dark curls getting further and further away from the party. She reaches for her phone.

xxxxxx

Gerard is a huge creep who is going on her bad touch list right below Peter Hale and no matter how much she loves Allison, Argents are the freakin' _worse._

She traces the bruises along her rib cage, skims the redness of her cheeks and doesn't look down at her pants.

When she can no longer bare to look at herself, she turns off the lights.

xxxxxx

Stiles spends the break running for cross country because like hell is she ever going to be defenseless again and if she had just moved a bit faster, gotten more space covered she would have made it to Lydia and Peter –

She spends her two weeks off running and doesn't look once at the broken remains of the Hale residence as she passes by it.

xxxxxx

Cora is undeniably a Hale and because of this, Cora is also undeniably an asset Stiles is going to abuse to her full advantage and while no shirts are taken off this time around, Stiles does use the Hale's pugnaciousness against her.

Watches gleefully as the Hale pulls her hand away from the wall and there is absolutely no effing way Derek is getting the deposit back now. Nope.

From her seat on the spiral staircase Stiles tilts her head and twirls a look of her unruly hair around, offering her best innocent look. "Wolf got your tongue?"

xxxxxx

Stiles has Allison train her into a strong warrior woman because that's what her mother tried to raise her to be.

Pleads with the Argent because if she had just been strong enough, fast enough, she would have gotten to Deucalion in time and –

She spends hours being slammed into a floor mat and getting roughed up and growing callouses and actually vomits at one point but eventually it gets to the point that one day Allison smiles, hands her a bow and "shoot".

xxxxxx

She lets go of Jackson a week into his departure.

Summer break's just gotten started and when she wakes up one morning her phone is blaring with a very high pitched shriek of a ringtone.

She gropes for it carelessly and by the time it's in her hands, she's managed to knock down her table lamp, a few books and a glass of week old water.

She yawns, smacks the phone to her ear and "'yello?"

"Stiles?"

She shoots up, back aching and mouth dry and there are not tears in her eyes, there _aren't._ "Jackson?"

"Yeah." The voice on the other end is awkward and rigid and a little distant but she doesn't care, doesn't care for anything really because…_Jackson._

"Listen, Stilinski, I just wanted to check in on how everyone's doing. I would call Lydia but…" Right. there goes her stomach. Jackson can't call Lydia. Because Lydia dumped his ass before he left. Jackson who, the last time she'd seen him, had been eyeing Lydia tearfully with a fierceness that had almost made her suffocate.

She runs her fingers through her hair, swallows nothing and wishes for the first time in months that her mom was there. "Yeah no, it's fine. We – we're good. Or as good as we can be. I haven't really seen anyone besides Scott and Isaac but from what I hear all is well."

There's a pause on the other line, a heavy breath and, "Good…that's good to know."

The sadness in his voice has her fisting her hand in her mouth.

"I'll see you later Stilink – Stiles."

She doesn't call him out on his lie, simply lets him hang up.

xxxxxx

She clutches Erica tightly to her chest, brushing back strands of hair and lets the blonde ride out the waves of pain against her.

Shushes her and holds her and ignores Derek's gaze because fuck this shit, that was _not _okay.

Erica, sweaty and bone tired, moves her mouth against the brunette's ear and, "You'd be a great batman, screw gender roles."

Stiles falls a little bit in love.

xxxxxx

Derek's growing heavier and heavier in her arms with each passing second and oh god she is going to _kill _Scott if she gets out of this.

Is going to string up the dopey teenager by his hair and kill him slowly for hanging up on her.

Stiles has always known Scott isn't the most reliable person in the world but come on, what in the literal hell?

She blows wet strands of hair out of her mouth and tightens her already numbing hold on Derek.

xxxxxx

Erica's funeral is a quick and quiet one and once it's over and the Reyes' have been ushered away, she stands in front of the unmarked grave and falls to her knees.

Curls her fingers into the dirt and makes two fists and lets a lone tear slip out.

She doesn't even know why she's there. She had had all of six conversations with the blonde, most of them while angry or bloody and she had barely known her, had spent most of her time as far from her as possible and dear god, she never even _knew_ her but…

But there is a pressure in her chest that's suffocating her and keeps building and she gets flashes of blonde curls and _screw gender roles_ and begins to openly sob for all the missed opportunities.

xxxxxx

Her earliest memory of Jackson is when they're both six years old.

It's before she has Scott and before she noticed how bad her mom was getting and before anything had scarred them.

It's on a playground in mid-July that a young Jackson Whittemore defends Stiles against an angry and vicious Greenburg.

Stiles, from her position on the ground, watches through tear filled eyes as Jackson saves her.

He smiles, helps her up and offers to share half of his ice cream sandwich.

She vows to marry him when they're older.

xxxxxx

Stiles leans into Isaac on the way into the loft, ignores everyone's attempts to try and placate her on Scott and she doesn't want to hear it.

She has had it with him and…she doesn't need this, she decides as she viciously washes her face clean of any blood.

She'll find her dad on her own and Scott can rot with Deucalion for all she cares.

(Inside her chest, her heart aches for her brother like never before.)

xxxxxx

Despite Boyd's medical expertise (note the sarcasm) the burns from the bus explosion stick around for a while.

Her ribs heal up in a few weeks but the burns decorate her hands for a while and she wants to find the asshole responsible just so she can wrap her mutilated hands around their neck and just –

She pins her hair up, pushes all thoughts of that hell hole of a motel out of her head, and climbs out of her bedroom window.

xxxxxx

Stiles has decided that Derek Hale is a good for nothing douche so she's obviously the best person to train Scott. _Obviously._

And maybe she's taking out her anger over the mountain lion incident on poor Scott's shoulders but at least she's doing something, all right? Unlike Derek who is off doing who knows what probably with his stupid shirt off.

She does not think about Derek Hale's naked chest as she hurls balls at every visible inch of Scott's body. No.

xxxxxx

_Be the spark._

Okay, yeah, she can do that. She can be a spark. She can save the day. Everything will be fine and everybody will live, just this once and the Kanima will go bye-bye and Jackson will be saved and love her for rescuing him and – yeah, okay, fantasy time over.

She clutches the mountain ash tightly before making her way around the rave.

xxxxxx

She recognizes Derek Hale on sight and isn't that just pathetic?

It's been, what, six, eight years since she's seen him?

It's not like he's going to remember the little girl who sat with him as they tried to recover as many recognizable bodies from the remains as possible. The little girl who'd clutched his hands and whispered, "it's okay, don't be sad."

His eyes meet hers, for a fraction of a second and she knows he doesn't remember.

She pulls Scott away.

xxxxxx

She goes back to the tattoo shop after Erica's funeral.

Walks in with dry eyes and determination and sits through the entire process without so much as a whimper.

Back in her room, in front of her cracked mirror, she peals away the gauze pad to stare at the black lettering against the nape of her neck.

**memento mori.**

She hides the tattoo well from her dad.

xxxxxx

She swears, if the twins so much as _breathe_ wrong on either Lydia or Ethan she is going to cut them.

Lydia is under her protection now that Jackson isn't around to defend her honor himself and Danny is literally the best person she knows and like hell is she going to let them become a ploy in whatever the stupid alphas have planned.

She isn't losing anybody else.

xxxxxx

Stiles has elected to ignore all further werewolf business. Forever.

Because just as popular belief would have it, she is very much a virgin and she would like to very much continue to be a virgin. Only, you know, a _living_ virgin.

Of course, this plan goes to shit the second Heather's dead body is before her because _screw_ you Beacon Hills, like hell is this going to happen to anyone else.

xxxxxx

Stiles Stilinski is no one's heroine.

This much has been proven time and time again but damn it Derek, can't she have just one thing?

She breaks the mountain ash barrier with a sigh and Derek's warm hand on her shoulder is a minor consolation before he's dashing in to save her brother.

She leans back, looks to where Isaac and Erica are off being violent and goes back to being no one.

xxxxxx

She sees the look in Ethan's eyes when he looks at Danny and it's that look that has her pulling him outside after class, eyes flashing peace.

The alpha stands there, tense and if she didn't know any better, on the alert.

"I'll make this quick, okay?" She stumbles out, hands already working their way into her hair and tangling themselves there. "I know you care about Danny. I don't know how much but I know you do and…I just need to know where he factors into all of this."

Ethan raises one perfect eyebrow and yeah, okay, the eyebrow thing is definitely a werewolf thing, must be.

She returns it with her own patent _what the fuck_ Stilinski look and continues, "I need to know that he's going to make it out of this alive."

Jaw tight and eyes hard, Ethan leans in and towers over her. "What the hell does it matter to you anyways? You two aren't even friends."

She wraps her fingers around herself and _do you think jackson finds me attractive _and _i could probably hook you up with miguel if you want _and a thirteen year old danny hiding out in the sheriff's office with her, hands clasped together and tears being wiped because as nice as the town is as a whole, there are still homophobic assholes out there.

"He's important to me." This is whispered quickly and harshly and she hates giving a part of herself over to him like this, nice twin or not.

Ethan steps back, the red disappearing from his eyes and nods. "I'll protect him."

A quirk of the lips and a shaky breath, "Good."

xxxxxx

There are still times, when in the right light, Stiles can't meet Allison's eyes.

There are multiple reasons for this; her hair reminds Stiles of Kate, her dad is a scary ass hunter, Allison herself has proved to be quite the psychotic hunter when it suits her and…

There are still nights that have Stiles waking up, phantom hands beating her until she can no longer move.

Those are the nights she spends sitting in her shower, cold water soaking her until she can breathe again.

xxxxxx

Stiles and Scott find a dead body in Derek Hale's front yard and doesn't it say something about her that her first instinct is to reach down and drag it out instead of being disgusted.

They find a dead body in Derek Hale's front yard and they get him arrested and she leans her face close and lies _i'm not afraid of you_ and lets her dad yell his heart out at her.

They find a dead body in Derek Hale's front yard and it turns out to be his sister. When she gets home, after the game, she leans against her bathroom sink, washes her face with trembling fingers and throws up in the trash bin.

xxxxxx

Okay, Matt has to be at least five different kinds of batshit crazy because seriously, this whole paralyzing everybody and throwing people on top of people is not okay.

She lies on top of Derek's hard, muscular, very nice body and listens as Matt talks to himself and rambles on about power and water and doesn't inhale the werewolf's cologne. She does _not_.

Ten minutes in she decides _fuck this shit_ and tries to think of the best way out. She makes sure her head is leaning against his shoulder, breathes in and whispers, "i've got a plan". And then proceeds to molest his neck and ear with her tongue.

xxxxxx

When it's all over there isn't much left behind.

The only ones who remain (in one piece) are the twins and even them, no matter how much help they'd been in the end, she can't look the eye.

She ignores Isaac and Allison's heavy, teary breathing in the background and Lydia's trembling and she ignores Derek's gaze and his hand on her shoulder in favor of glaring down into the blood soaked soil. She bites away the tears.

There is blood all over her, all around her and none of it is hers.

xxxxxx

A week after helping Derek kill his psychotic uncle the nightmares start.

On the good days the nightmares are nothing more than phantom touches. Small flashes of cold hands on wrists and melting flesh and torn throats. These have her leaning her sweaty forehead against her window in hopes of the vertigo going down.

On the bad days the nightmares have burning fire and sharp teeth and _lydia! run! _and bloody dresses and disappointed fathers and dead bodies piling up left and right. These have her tugging on her hair in quick, harsh movements, the pain in her skull distracting her from the pain in her chest.

xxxxxx

Jennifer Blake or Julia or whoever is freakin' certifiable and it is now a proven fact that Derek Hale has the worst taste in women. _Ever._

She stands behind the psychopath wielding Mrs. McCall's bat and glares at the perfect set of curls in front of her and totally doesn't think how nice they'd look chopped off and in bits on the floor.

But she does manage to trip the older woman on her way out of the elevator.

She ignores Derek's slightly amused glare.

xxxxxx

She becomes friends with the ex-love of her life's ex-girlfriend a month into his departure.

She runs into her in Beacon Hills' only mall and she has to blink a few times and doesn't catch half of what the strawberry blonde is saying because holy hell, Lydia Martin is standing in a store that has a good percentage of plaid in it and hasn't made one cutting comment about her hoodie. Yet.

Lydia thins her lips, leans her head to the side and, "We both love him…just in different ways. Why shouldn't we be friends?"

Stiles, clutching a plaid Garage shirt in hand, smirks lightly and holds up the cloth for inspection. Lydia snorts and throws the shirt down, reaching for a tighter and more revealing tank top. "Here, this will do your cleavage justice."

It's the start of a very confusing and beautiful friendship.

xxxxxx

Boyd's comment hurts more than it should have.

She watches him walk away and replays the words over and over and they sting _so_ badly.

_I only had one friend. She's dead too._

She'd known Boyd and Erica had been close, had seen him at the funeral before she'd run off in a mess of tears and from what Isaac has let out, they'd been on the run together before shit hit the fan.

She doesn't want to feel guilty for missing Erica but she also knows she doesn't have the right to miss anybody.

xxxxxx

Stiles realizes she might be in like with Derek Hale the night she spends leaning outside his bedroom door, trying to get him to come out through sheer annoyance.

It's only been a few days since Boyd and her lungs still feel like there's iron pulling them down and if she has to spend another hour in the same room as Peter Hale she's going to make him regret it.

So yeah, she realizes she might be in like with him as she's whispering secrets into the metal door and doesn't that just speak volumes about her? About her taste in men?

Let's take a look at the evidence: Jackson Whittemore; 2001-2011; certifiable douchebag to everyone except his one true friend; bully and tormentor of _her_ best friend; never so much as looked her way except to sneer or roll his eyes; mass murdered a bunch of innocent people, though yes, he was being mind controlled; living far far away in London.

And Derek Hale is just…a mess, a complete and utter mess that she wants to throw herself into. She wants to run her fingers through his hair and press angry kisses to his neck and wipe away all remains of Kate and Paige's ghosts and listen to him talk about his family and watch him unravel and dear god she wants to crawl into him and take him apart until she knows everything there is to know because despite his apparent like for shoving her into things he always does it with the gentlest of hands and it was him, two weeks after Jackson's departure that offered her any consolation as opposed to offering it to Lydia and he doesn't mind when she talks aimlessly about nothing as long as it's not preventing him from anything important and sometimes when he looks at her, she feels strong.

She falls asleep against his door with a dry tongue and a heavy heart.

xxxxxx

She goes to help rescue Isaac Lahey for two reasons and two reasons only:

One: Scott looks like he might legitimately shit his pants if she doesn't.

Two: She remembers how tired Derek's eyes had been after slashing out Peter's throat, red eyes or not.

xxxxxx

It takes Stiles exactly five minutes to make it to Scott's house on foot, running full speed and the excitement and Adderall coursing through her are enough to keep the sweat away.

She knows Mrs. McCall is either asleep or on call so she does what she knows best, hangs herself from her best friend's porch top and scares the crap out of both of them.

She convinces him in under three minutes very insensitively to go out looking for half a body and when Isaac asks her, months later, once all the blood and tears have been wiped clean and she's able to talk again, she tells the curly haired werewolf she regrets nothing.

xxxxxx

She tugs Scott along, ignores the rapidness of her heart beating and, "dude, that was derek hale."


End file.
